Heavy
by amd-tea
Summary: Maybe it was a bad idea to get drunk.. But right now, it's didn't matter. All that mattered was the blonde next to him, staring up into the abyss of stars and hope. How could the moon reflect in such worn eyes to make them shine like new? When said eyes met America's, his breathe hitched in his throat. (Based on the song 'Heavy' by Florence The Machine)


"Quit calling me that, you fucking bastard!" Arthur has just about enough of the American pulling on the edge of his sweater, making cooing noises at him, and making him into a fluttered mess at this bar. Arthur knew that as soon as he stared to feel the buzz of his beers start to hit him that he was throwing caution to the wind and everything he was saying and doing was like firing a lose cannon. It didn't matter. It was only America.

The American smirked and teased the Englishman further. "Awwww, but your cheeks are all rosy... Cute!" His obnoxious laughs echoed through the bar, thankfully drawing no attention to the two of them aside from the few strangers whom also once sat at the bar, leaving the two drunks be for the evening. Only the bartender mildly listened to their antics. England loosened his tire from around his neck, ignoring the arrogant brat next to him.  
"I'd watch myself If I were you, lad." England retorted. Not having any funny business tonight. America hunched over his drink, one arm tucked away under this free arm which nursed the side of his half emptied beer. It must have been his fourth.

"Aw, don't be that waaaaay." America leaned over, brushing his shoulder into the others. America was most certainly over stepping his bounds as a fellow country, but not certainly so as a close friend. Both of their cheeks were stained with hues of scarlet and rose as they exchanged insults and teasing for awhile longer, spinning on their bar stools at the girls and other civilians behind them in the god forsaken seedy bar.

"..For the last fucking time ..I'm not 'cute', git." England wasted no time in finishing his sixth Boggingtons, settling the empty glass down and glaring over at the other male who'd been eyeing him whilst finish his poison.  
Whether the blonde realized it or not, he was rather attractive, in America's eyes anyway. His unusually think brows, often creased in such a way to signify great expression and his deep, soulful eyes.. His tempting lips..

America looked away feeling the blush in his face darken at each observation. Damn old man.  
England glanced over all the selections of alcohol from across the bartenders pace and settled on a bottle of Beefeaters. Half lidded eyes went from the bottle to America. America noticed the direct stare and gulped down a lump of nervousness he'd never noticed before. God, this couldn't be good.  
A few moments later, America and England sat with a shot each of Gin. England's second, and Americans first. The time was already pressing on midnight and America wondered how the hell they were evening going to get back to their hotel room straight. After a burning shot down his throat later, America felt the red burning in his cheeks at full force. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one.

"Yo' know mate, Lon' time ago yew wer' spoiled' rottin'.." England trailed off loudly in between giggles and hiccups. America only sat silent listening to the other ramble on about the old times. He knew that being here and talking about such things of the past would only depress the Englishman so a change of subject was best for the both of them.  
"You know.. we should do something.." America blurted out in the midst of England's ramble, making the other stop mid sentence. Shocked eyes met with a sincerely concerned ones before both broke away, glaring in opposite directions of the other. England intertwined his hands, elbows resting on the bar's edge and thought for a moment at the topic at hand. America had a point. No sense in babbling about days of the past, especially now in the present when everything was new and fresh and unexplored.  
A unsettling nag had begun in the pit of the Englishman's stomach at the very thought of the present, with America. He did not dare think or speak of the developing fondness he had for the other, knowing full well rejection was in his future. No need to go to such lengths for a predictable heartbreak.

England betrayed himself in glancing over at the American, but found he enjoyed drinking in the sight of the younger nation. His scarlet cheeks were exquisitely bright against his bronze, toned skin. His bomber jacket clinging to him just so and his hair messy and hiding away the pools of sky azure he loved to stare into through the ever reflective Texas that sat on th bridge of his nose. Despite his standing with the other, England was not going to jeopardize what he already had with the other. When America felt the gaze from the other he locked eyes with the older nation before England averted his attention desperately to the bottles of liqueur. "And what do you propose we do?" England retorted finally in a posh( as best he could while drunk) manner. He leaned his pursed lips against his intertwined hands and a raised questioning brow.

A flushed America sat in silence for a moment with crossed arms trying to further his concentration. His eyes averted from the floor to the ceiling a few times visibly going over and crossing off possible and bad ideas for the two. After what seemed like forever his features relaxed into a handsome, loving smile and locked eyes with Englishman once more. Alfred's starlight eyes somehow were holding a new meaning and Arthur felt himself blush.

An hour and a half later the two nation sat on their hotel balcony watching with adoration and the clear night sky above them decorated. The moon illuminated the dark sky and shimmering stars randomly placed by a divine force added to the nights charm. Somehow, being intoxicated only made the sight even more enchanting.  
The two didn't exchange any words for a long time. They only sat in the two chairs they'd brought from inside the room that were already provided. Not too comfy but enough to make a drunken bum comfy. England cut his gaze from the stars to American whom was already looking him as well. He felt a flush break out across his cheekbones, not alcohol related.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?" His annoyance covered his embarrassed, or so he hoped. America caught it just enough to know the other was uncomfortable. Turning away from the other, America retrieved his mobile from his pocket and faked finding interest in checking for new messages. Anything to break the awkward air was necessary. "Haha.. Not you, weirdo." America lied, putting his phone away nonchalant. He has too play cool. He couldn't let the alcohol affect him into giving in to his desire to want to close the space between him and England. Hero's saved the day, not cause chaos. Hurt flicked over the Englishman's expression before replaced with amusement. "Ah.. Right. Of course." America had to keep from cringing. God, England was merciless. He had to ignore the growing guilt in his stomach. Both returned their gazes up at the stars but their minds both lost in thought about the other.

A silence fell between the two of them again before England broke the silence America was failing to try and end. "This certainly is lovely." His voice was soft and almost endearing. America nodded and felt the alcohol wave over him, betraying his mind and heart. Damn these weird feelings. Damn this atmosphere. Damn his ideas and.. just damn it all. England was such a bastard for playing with his mind like this. It was all his fault. "Yeah.. It is."

Maybe it was a bad idea to get drunk.. But right now, it's didn't matter. All that mattered was the blonde next to him, staring up into the abyss of stars and hope. How could the moon reflect in such worn eyes to make them shine like new? Those greens pools met America's and his breathe hitched in his throat. Caught red handed, again.

An elegant brow raised, But America shook his head and his heart clenched in his chest. England felt his cheeks heat up from seeing the other shoot his chair closer to England's. Positioning himself with an elbow on knee, staring at the other and his chin cushioning in his palm. Taking a relaxed approach into what seemed like a death trap was a lot better than seeming like a bumbling idiot, which the Englishman loved to point out about himself. Still, his confidence didn't falter even if it wasn't his own but he couldn't be sure. All he knew is England was looking more cute tonight than ever and his heart was swelling. The two of them seemed drunk enough to pull off anything and forget tomorrow. America only hoped.

"Hey.. I know I never say shit like this but.. you look really good tonight." America said, matter of factually. England gawked, he never expected the other to say such a thing to him . Slowly his drunken blush spread from one ear to the other and his eyes widened at the American. After a moment of being flabbergasted the Englishman snorted, locking eyes at the other his expression growing cold. America couldn't possibly know of his forbidden feelings. It was all the alcohol, he was sure. England wasn't impressed or sympathetic in the slightest. Much rather, he was insulted.

"What the fuck yew trying to pull, brat?" His voiced raised with America's brow, "Do you really think I'm a bloody fool? Trying to sweet talk me into your arms?" The questions and insults didn't stop and continued for a few minutes. All England could do was rant how America was taking the advantage and being a dick, now of all times. Inside all England could do was hold back tears. How dare him play this game but he shouldn't have expected anything less. America rolled his eyes, god his was such a drama queen at times.

"Will you shut up?" America shouted, silencing the other. Both exchanged angered and pained expressions. Talking like this was a bad idea but redemption could still be scene in the distance. A small sliver of hope was all America saw and he had one chance. Damn his pounding heart. Damn his feelings. Damn alcohol. Damn it all to hell.

...Damn England.

"I'm being serious." America hushed, leaning over his seat and brushed a few blonde locks from England's perplexed expression. America continued with all his will to not make it seem like this was a thing of the moment sort of ordeal but there again maybe it was.. who knew.. but He couldn't deny himself. He'd been regretfully in love with this posh goody two shoes man for far too long. He exhaled a breath he'd been holding and swallowed his pride, England hadn't moved and his breaths were shallow. This reaction was promising.

Blinking a few times, England watched in disbelief at America's bravery. Perhaps being drunk with the other wasn't bad. Maybe coming out to the other in this situation was all was needed to win him over. Why wasn't America more forward in the past? So many questions filled England's mind as he felt the American inch closer to him. His feelings betrayed his mind and his body was falling with the mood. The ever twinkling stars above them was their only audience. No longer giving any fucks if he would be hurt in the morning or not and with a hangover, England let his eye lids fall. He did have trust in the American to a point so perhaps with the seriousness of the other, there was some promise of a future with this man. The man he'd watch grow and soon came to love.

England's lips quivered under his own, their lips barely touching but the heat was real. All of the blood fill to America's face when he pressed a bit further into the other man's pillowed lips and internally he sighed in euphoria. Why did he go so long without this.. why didn't he embrace and fall into England sooner.


End file.
